


From Cali with Love

by Klayr_de_Gall



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy is a secret romantic, Billy is on a roadtrip, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, S3 Divergence, Steve is figuring out his life, feelings through Postcards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21620383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klayr_de_Gall/pseuds/Klayr_de_Gall
Summary: The day after their graduation, Billy grabs all his belongings and leaves, no ‘Goodbye’, no word where to. Three weeks later Steve gets a Postcard from Chamberlain, South Dakota, with nothing on it except his name.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley/Heather Holloway
Comments: 75
Kudos: 295
Collections: Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2019





	From Cali with Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CallieB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallieB/gifts).



> I really hope you have as much fun reading this story as I had while writing it! Hope I was able to get close to your Prompt. I took it and just run with it and then it got away from me and turned so incredibly long.
> 
> All my thanks go to [gideongrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gideongrace/pseuds/gideongrace) for editing this monster!

The day after graduation Billy just gets in his car and leaves. No word where to, he is just gone. One moment he’s a raging spitfire on his way up to the stage, robe only half tied, tongue wagging at Steve when he turns around in line for a last glance before his name is called – the next moment all that's left of Billy's too big presence are dusty tire-tracks and the glow of his back lights.

To be fair, Steve didn't even notice it at first. Billy and him are not friends, barely ever exchanged a word after the fight at the Byers' last year, aside from the occasional slur in the hall or shoulder slam in the gym. Billy getting more civil had also meant that Steve got Tommy off of his back, slowly rounding back to a somewhat friendly companionship between them. And really, he had missed Tommy. And he had missed Carol even more.

So when he meets up with Tommy and Carol a week or so after graduating at the Sattlers Quarry, Steve is taken by surprise by the news about Hawkins resident Hothead no longer being in town; Tommy is a bit pissed, apparently he had made plans to roadtrip to California with Billy - Steve has to wonder if Billy even knows that - but all in all it’s not that much of a surprise. Hargrove was never meant to stay in boring Hawkins - Nowhere Indiana. 

So Steve adds his few cents to it - “What, you expect me to be sad? One shithead less to worry about,” - and takes the half empty bottle of cheap bourbon Carol hands him.

~~*~~

He’s hanging out with the Party at the Wheelers’ basement - and how strange is that, being some weird kind of friends with his Ex’s little brother, reading some comic book that makes exactly zero sense to him - when Max plops down beside him. Max makes an earnest face, more ernest then usual, so she has Steve's full attention when she spills the news for everyone to hear. While the boys holler and cheer around them, the loudest of them Dustin, Steve has to wonder what the downturned frown on Max's face means. He pats her knee but doesn’t know what to say.

~~*~~

The next month is filled with job hunting and his father's disappointment whenever Steve comes home empty handed. Steve had never even imagined that a simple shake of his father's head could hurt so much worse than one hundred punches. So he sets the bar even lower for himself, goes out the next day to hand out his resume and put some applications in the mail. Steve still hopes that his father is just bluffing, that he’ll come around and offer him the cozy, easy office job that he always promised would be waiting - but deep down Steve knows that won’t be happening.

In the end, what might ruin every small business in Hawkins, saves Steve's ass. The new Mall is hiring a shitload of people. Kids that look for summer jobs or desperate highschool graduates without any brain are exactly what they’re after. So he ends up working at Scoops Ahoy in a sailor uniform of all things with the looming void of existential dread growing in him every day.

It’s a real low blow to his ego, Steve can’t even appreciate the snarky drama girl that’s working with him, who gives absolutely no fucks. It’s impressive. But also annoying. They could maybe become friends but he’s too keyed up in his own business to try. The kids are the only thing that keeps him sane these days, while simultaneously driving him up a wall, and that’s where all the little energy he has left goes to.

Heaving himself out of his Beemer after a particular hellish Friday evening shift, Steve stumbles over some mail on the doormat - “Fuck you Jeff, there is a Mailbox for that shit!” - and nearly breaks his neck. Some bills and a stupid postcard, nothing worth dying for. Steve mutters to himself while he picks everything up, inspecting the colorful postcard that reads  _ Greetings from GREEN BAY, Wisconsin - home of the Green Bay Packers _ . He has no idea who would write his parents from Wisconsin, so he flips the card over just to be greeted with blank lines.

There is nothing written on the backside of the card. No greeting, no massage, no name. Only Steve's address, with his own name on top. And he most definitely knows no one there, no one with slightly edgy handwriting where the E’s seem to be carefully rounded.

Steve looks at the front again, at the little pictures of different city signs that are embedded into the big letters that form the name of the city: a church, some mall, the mayor's office, a lake and the drawing of a football court in the corner

The few friends he has are all in Hawkins so Steve really has no idea who could send him a card. And really, he’s too tired and exhausted to care that much, so he shrugs and trotts into his silent and empty house. The postcard gets crumpled a little when he stuffs it into the pocket of his sailor shorts. It gets saved by the cleaning lady a few days later when she checks the pockets before doing laundry so the card ends up on Steves desk and stays there.

~~*~~

A few weeks later his mother comes out of the house onto the veranda, her shades covering her delicate eyes and her summer dress slowly swinging around her legs. She looks personally offended by the skin-meltingly hot weather. Steve is lounging in the pool, just lazing in the already too warm water, his head pillowed on top of his arms at the edge.

“Who is writing you from Chamberlain, Sprinkles?”

“Hmm?”

Steve looks up when she says his decade-old nickname, he hadn’t expected her to come out to actually talk to him. His mother wrinkles her nose because of the one sullaby response.

“Someone wrote to me from Chamberlain?” Steve tries again, sliding his own sunglasses up in his floppy, slightly damp hair. His mother steps closer and for a moment the seam of her dress brushes his fingers and he lets the silken fabric run between his fingertips, catch on the slightly rougher skin.

“There was a postcard in the mail.”

His mother just stands there so Steve pushes himself out of the water, paying close attention to not getting any water on her yellow dress. The postcard she hands over has some domestic diner interior on it.  _ South Dakota's finest - Derby's Cafe. _

“There’s no name written on it.”

Even before his mother's words, even before flipping the card over, Steve had known the lines would be blank but he looks anyway. His mom taps her foot, impatient, waiting for an explanation. A postcard without any sender on it was probably something to be offended over. Steve was sure she would talk about it over dinner, how some people didn’t have any manners and his father would make a throwaway comment about what scene Steve was in that he got empty postcards.

“It’s just a joke from someone from school maybe,” Steve offers lamely. It’s not a good lie, but he never intended to lie about it, just making something up might be easier than admitting the truth, admitting that he has no clue about what is going on.

“I'll throw it out then.”

“No.”

Steve holds the card closer against his body, some droplets of water that were clinging to his chest hair making the ink of his written name smudge. His mother rises a delicate brow.

“I’ll get rid of it later. I'll just ask around if anyone else got one. Maybe I can figure out who it is.”

He won’t, but it’s apparently a good enough excuse for his mother because she just shrugs and walks back inside, away from her son and the heat, back into the cool air-conditioned house. This was the most his mother had said to him in over a year.

~~*~~

Over the next few weeks, some postcards without a sender’s name on them are the last thing on Steve's mind because suddenly Dustin is back from summer camp and has a brand new conspiracy theory. There are Russians in town. Actual real life fascists sending some cryptic messages over the little radio the nerds are never without.

It’s all fun and games, something to take the edge off the immense boredom at work until it isn’t. All of the sudden their little entertaining game turns into getting trapped in a Russian underground base with Robin and two kids - one of them who he would give his life for - into getting tortured and drugged -

\- and the pain was bad, the pain was real bad, some crazy bastard grabbing for him, laughing in his face but - the drugs are so much worse. Steve is floating, kicking, screaming inside his head, trying to get a clear thought, to get his body moving. Robin will die, Dustin will die, Erica will die. Just because he couldn’t protect them, couldn’t plant his feet and throw a punch -

\- and then they don’t die. The part about why and how is really foggy and Steve tries not to think about any details, but one moment he was going to get his nails ripped out, the next moment he’s simultaneously throwing up his stomach's entire contents side by side with Robin.

Steve can dimly remember sitting with the red haired drama-girl in a gross toilet-stall, listening to her talk about Tammy Thompson and thinking, “Good for her.” Because maybe there was a beginning of a crush for Robin blooming in Steve's chest, but he was definitely not in love with the girl. He was in love with the idea of being with someone who would have his back, who would stand by his side fierce and protective. And Robin was all that and she was a lesbian and she was awesome. And Steve was glad to have her.

Everything after this talk is such a blur. El saves them and the little nerds get reunited and Steve gets his feet pulled out from under him because there are new monsters in Hawkins. Leaving the mall, driving like mad to a hill outside of town. Speeding back just in time to save Nancy from some car he doesn't have the time to recognize.

In the end, it’s Tommy’s lifeless body lying on the cold tiled floor of the starcourt mall, ripped apart by the monster that used his body to get what it wanted, to kill a little girl that was not as defenseless as the Mindflyer might have thought. Now Tommy is gone and Steve dimly wonders about Carol, about how she would maybe take the news. But Carol is gone, too.

~~*~~

The weeks after Starcourt are filled with doctors' appointments, Police investigations and nightmares. Gutwrenching, throat numbing nightmares. Steve can barely sleep, is always afraid to wake up screaming, or to not wake up at all.

His parents book him an appointment with a psychiatrist when the dark bags under Steve's eyes become so deep, it becomes impossible to ignore them over the dinner table.

“Only the best for you, Sprinkles,” his mother says while handing him the note with the date and address, after having pulled some strings with the family name on them to even get him a spot on the roster. Then she and his father leave town. Just the best for him.

The kids and Robin are his sole reason to get up in the morning. And maybe it gets a little bit easier every day. 

“Cool Postcard, Dingus,” Robin greets him when he lets her in out of the hot august sun. “Didn’t know you had friends in Fort Peck.”

Steve huffs and just shakes his head.

“What? Don’t wanna read it?”

“There’s nothing on it, anyway.”

Robin raises an eyebrow and turns the card, looking at the back of it pointedly.

“  _ I saw a gray fox today. _ Okay, it’s not a mindblower, but hey, foxes are cool.”

With a look of disbelief, Steve snatches the postcard from Robin's hand. The front reads _ Fort Peck, MONTANA _ \- the state written way bigger and bolder than the actual city, because to be fair, probably no one knew where Fort Peck was. The letters are filled with different pictures of probably important buildings. It reminds him a bit of the card from Green Bay. Then Steve flips it over.

\-  _ I saw a gray Fox today. _ -

The same edgy letters, this time written with what looks like a blue sharpie. Parts of the address are smeared, but Jeff, Hawkins resident mailman, knows everyone's house by heart, so it’s not that much of a surprise that the card still arrived.

“There is no name,” Robin states, forcing Steve to roll his eyes. He follows her throughout the house into the kitchen, just takes the cold beer she hands him out of his own fridge.

“No shit, Genius. There’s never a name.”

“Never?”

Her eyes are way too sharp for Steve's liking but the damage is already done. 

So they spend half an hour inspecting all the ominous postcards he has gotten so far - it’s starting to pile up. At least they are kind of sure now that it’s a guy's handwriting, even if they can’t really be totally certain, it makes sense. At least Steve never saw such edged, sharp letters in any girl's writing. (He got more than enough love letters in Highschool to say that with some confidence.)

Robin gets so invested as to actually find a map of the US and follow the route of the cards, but then she can’t find Fort Peck and they spend the rest of the day in the pool, talking about school and jobs and girls. Steve feels a bit more human again.

The card stays tucked between the green jar that holds his pens and his desk-light, together with the two others.

~~*~~

The next three cards arrive in the span of six weeks and are all from the same place - T _ he Grid Point National park _ in Montana. Robin is convinced that the mysterious sender might have bought the cards in advance, but the postal stamps are all legit and from the same office, so she has to swipe her adventurous theory for the easier one: whoever the sender is, he just spent six weeks in the national park. Maybe to work. Maybe to enjoy the scenery. The cards really suggest that it’s beautiful out there in the wilderness.

All three of them have some variation of trees and mountains on the front. Steve's favorite is the one with a lake that reflects the whole landscape upside down as well. It’s a bit bittersweet and he had doodled some black veins on the bottom part one night when the nightmares wouldn't let him rest, but it’s also calming. The Upside-Down was closed for good. They paid a really big price to make sure of that. 

The message on the back of this one is also special. While the first and second one from the park had just held some mundane thoughts:  _ People should pick up their trash. Pigs. _ and  _ Really, what’s so special about trees? _ The third one was about him.

\-  _ You would look good by a Campfire  _ -

Whenever Steve reads that line, it brings a smile to his face. Whoever his one-sided pen pal is, he had been thinking about him while writing that statement, maybe even sitting beside a campfire. The line had been written two times, the first time crossed out in bold swipes but the second line was untouched, written with care, the letters a bit more rounded out. Maybe whoever had written them had been a bit drunk.

~~*~~

The next card that finds its way onto Steve's desk has a fat stripe of clear ducktape down the middle, thanks to Mike fucking Wheeler. Really, Steve nearly ripped the little gremlin's head off for that stunt.

The postcard from  _ Washington Five, Bridgeport, Connecticut  _ isn’t even a really pretty one. It shows an urban street with some big trees and a fancy family home. Steve had picked it up from the doormat on a Saturday on his way out of the house. He had been invited to play D&D with the Party and while he sucked at the game, it was also somehow really fun. And Will was always thankful for another Party member. The boy had uncalled for patience and was willing to explain the rules to Steve for the twenty-third time.

Today Steve had been a bit distracted by the postcard lying by his hand, half-hidden under the board. There wasn’t much on the back at all, only one word, but it had made him smile and his cheeks had filled with color.

\-  _ Stevie  _ -

No one called him that. Not since his Granny died while he was still in kindergarten. Some of his peers on the basketball team had said it a few times to mock him, but Steve was sure this wasn’t about being insulting or patronizing.

Reading his name over and over again, in the voice his brain had made up for the stranger - a deep and soft rumble - made him feel warm and content. So content that he was not paying much attention to the game and walked head first into a dungeon, even while the rest of the party had just agreed to wait. 

“Seriously, dude?”

Lucas was looking at him like he had just grown a second head, while Max facepalmed beside him.

“What?”

“You walk into the dark catacombs, without a torch or any protection and alert the pack of demonic wolves that are resting there. The wolves attack you and you can’t fight back in the dark. Only a perfect roll can save you now.”

Will at least has the audacity to look a bit sorry while delivering his lines.

“We agreed to wait, man!” Mike complains. “We need all power for the final battle. And you alert fucking wolves!”

El looks at her maybe-boyfriend and draws her brows together.“Language.”

Dustin shakes his head. “You should pay more attention to the game than a postcard, man.”

“What’s so important about it, anyway?”Mike grabs for the card, nearly knocking over the board in the progress and it’s just reflexes that Steve holds on, there is no secret on it, nothing that the kids shouldn’t be allowed to see. But it’s _ his.  _ It has his name on it, two times. And Mike can’t have it! The thin cardboard doesn’t hold up against the sudden force. It rips in two.

The room falls into shocked silence, everyone frozen on the spot, all eyes on the two halves of the card. Steve blinks, takes a break. He has no idea what the emotion on his face must look like, but Mike actually shrinks back a little.

“Shit. I’m sorry - I didn’t - I just wanted…”Mike's voice breaks into a squawk at the end - problems of puberty - and shuts his mouth with a snap, going an interesting shade of red. Dustin and Lucas start to snicker while Will looks a little bit worried still, but the tension is defused and everything goes back to normal. Only Steve is left to stare at the two halves of his postcard sadly, but he tries to hide it and puts the pieces away into his wallet, where they fit now.

They continue the game. Steve's character is lost to the wolves, but the party wins the campaign anyway. El’s unconventional way of playing, of coming up with ideas that no one else would think about, saves their asses.

After, Steve tucks himself away on the couch while the kids devour some pizza they ordered earlier, again contemplating the damage. The nickname is ripped into  _ St - vie _ , the middle E lost to the tear. The sadness he feels just because of a stupid postcard from some stupid nowhere, sent by some stupid whoever makes him feel numb and gray.

“Steve.”

El comes to sit beside him, looks at him with her steady, warm eyes.

He manages to put a smile on his lips. “I’m good.”

“Friends don’t lie.”

She holds a roll of clear tape up for him. This time his smile is more genuine. They fix the postcard together.

~~*~~

“Dingus? What exactly are you doing?”

Robin appears on top of the stack of videos that Steve is carrying through the store, way too many at once, way too unstable. He’s a walking safety hazard, but he just wants to be done with this shit.

“Working,” he grunts as a response, walking around his coworker to get to the shelves.

“Well, I can see that. But those are the tapes that we were meant to label and put in the _For Sale_ _Box_ , Steven.”

Steve stops and blinks, nearly ready to just tell the whole Family Video Store to fuck it and to drop all the videos. But instead he takes a big breath; maybe his eyes burn a bit when he looks pleadingly at Robin, but who cares.

“You are joking, right?” Steve whines.

Robin seems apologetic about it when she shakes her head. Both of them know that Steve is grasping for straws here - they just talked about it yesterday. And the week before. And the week before that. Sorting videos and ringing up fees is just not a job for Steve. Honestly, he doesn’t know what would be a job for him. Robin seems content here, knows their range by heart and likes to drag Steve into every new movie. She isn’t the biggest people person, but Keith happily overlooks that in favor of all her other good qualities. 

But Steve gets snarled at whenever he’s just breathing wrong. For every misplaced tape, for every crumb on the floor he didn’t manage to sweep up after closing. The High-School Jock that can't even ring up a register. Just a pretty face without enough brain to get into college.

It doesn’t matter how many times Robin tells him that all of this isn’t true. That Keith is wrong. That his father is wrong. It still stings.

Robin takes half the videos of the stack he’s carrying, pressing her shoulder to his for a tender moment.

“Come on. I'll help you put them back. Only half an hour 'till our lunch date with your little Gumbo.”

And really when did the prospect of seeing Dustin start making his day so much better?

They are still collecting the falsely sorted old videos from the shelves when the curly-haired teen dashes into Family Video a few minutes later.

“Haaa~ Still on time, bitch!” Dustin hollers, offending a mother that’s browsing their children's movies section. He’s very out of breath, his cheeks are red and splotchy and his hair is sticking to his forehead in damp waves.

Steve and the boy bump fists and share big, toothy grins as Robin snickers and says, “Bet you 10 dollars your little Nerd went to Loch Nora instead.”

Offended and still gasping for air, Dustin points an accusing finger at Robin, who just leans onto the counter unimpressed, raising a brow at him.

“You… might not be wrong,” he admits grumpily. Steve has to cough into his fist to cover up his laugh, but Dustin is way too observant and throws a sharp, boney elbow into his side.

“Stop laughing! Be thankful! Otherwise I would not found this!”

He waves a postcard in front of Steve’s face, being kind enough to not just snatch it away when his eyes go big and he grabs for it. A really pretty autumn cityscape of Seattle is printed on the front and he takes it in for a moment, tries to remember how far away that city is.

Both Robin and Dustin wait in anticipation for him to turn the card over; they are his closest friends, so of course both of them know about the cards by now. In fact, they are still coming up with more and even crazier conspiracy theories for every new arrival. It’s entertaining.

\-  _ The view from the Space Needle is spectacular. Are you afraid of heights, pretty boy?  _ -

Steve can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips.

“What does it say?” Dustin asks as Robin reads the card over his shoulder and coos.

“Pretty boy, huh?” she snickers.

Steve's ears turn a pretty hot shade of red. He feels a bit too warm for just those two words and he can’t help but imagine the view from the famous landmark.

“Man, I really wonder who writes such sappy stuff,” Dustin makes a face of disgust and Robin slaps his arm as punishment for it, “That’s called courting, Gumbo. You’ll get it some day.”

While Robin and Dustin bicker in the background, Steve reads the words again, finally feeling calm and content for the first time all day.

~~*~~

It’s a two and a half bedroom apartment, Steve's room is barely a walk-in closet with a moldy corner beside the window, and the wall between Robin's room and the bathroom is way too thin, but it’s t _ heirs. _

The living room is barely big enough to fit the couch and the coffee table, and the TV doesn’t show any programs on a rainy day and one of the chairs in the kitchen only has three legs. But Steve has never felt so at home. 

One of the walls beside the door is slowly filling with scribbles and photos. Robin and him. The kids, postcards from Will and Jonathan and El, Robin with Heather, holding hands on the couch. 

It’s small and the heat barely works, but they make it theirs to live in.

Steve's postcards find a special place all over the big gray fridge. The newest one is from Newport in Oregon. It shows the entrance to Yaquina Bay and the beach. The ocean. It reads

\-  _ FUCK. I MISSED THE OCEAN. _ -

all in big bold black letters over the back. It always cheers him up when he's looking at it. And Steve has started to form some theories of his own about the mysterious sender that was road tripping through the States. To be fair, the look on Max's face when she saw the cards and the written notes had given him a vague idea. He still had to talk about it to the red whirlwind, had yet to find the time for that. But no one was in any hurry around Hawkins and the remaining members of the Party holed up at the apartment more often than not, so he would get his chance.

~~*~~

How could a girl that was barely fourteen years old have such a judgemental look? She’d probably picked it up from her annoying brother, who apparently was sending cards to him.

“What do you mean, you didn’t know?” Max crosses her arms all grumpy.

“How should I have known? Why would he send me this…?”

She looks ready to burst, shaking with anger. Steve doesn’t get it. He didn’t do anything wrong. If he had suspected Billy earlier, he would have asked her about it.

“Exactly! Why should he write that to you? He didn’t - he …”

Max stops and ducks her head, gripping the couch cushion she's holding so tightly that her knuckles turn white.  _ ‘Oh,’ _ Steve thinks.

“Max…”

“He never - Not a word! He just left. He just… left without me.”

Steve can’t be grateful enough that he decided to ask about the handwriting and the postcards while Max had been alone with him at the apartment; there was no way would she ever have forgiven him for getting her this emotional in front of all her friends. Slowly, a bit at a loss of what to do, Steve curls an arm around her shaking shoulders and Max goes rigid - making him wonder if it was the wrong call - but then she melts against him, hiding her face against his shoulder, hiding herself away from the world.

“I’m sorry.”

There’s not much else Steve can offer except for holding her close and trying to calm her down. What else was there to do when she was missing the big brother she never had?

~~*~~

It’s late November when the next card shows up in the mail between some magazines and the electricity bill. His parents' address is still written on the back, but there's a little sticker beside it with his new address in downtown Hawkins. Steve makes a mental note to thank Benjamin when he sees him - the guy had graduated with him, always the loudest at every party, winging Steve right behind Tommy, but apparently, he still watched out for the people he once knew. It hadn’t actually been town gossip that Steve Harrington had finally cut ties with his parents, now living a simpler life with a girl that was still in highschool, rumored to be his girlfriend - and yes, Robin and him had had a good laugh about that - but apparently word had gotten around enough for the post office apprentice to know his new address.

The card is from San Francisco, The Golden Gate bridge photographed in all her glory.

- _ Nine months. Didn’t think I would miss anything.  _ -

The green ink is a bit smeared and blotchy, maybe Billy had written it by the beach, or maybe the wet and cold Indiana weather got to the card before Steve could.

He still hasn’t fully come to terms that his mysterious messenger is Billy Hargrove. The same guy that punched the shit out of him a year ago. The same guy that had only thrown insults and nasty looks his way in school. It’s hard to make that picture overlap with the mental picture of a road-tripping guy, sending postcards from every city he stops at, reaching out across all that distance.

But weirdly, the pictures start to connect after a while. Steve had looked at every single one of his cards again, this time hearing Billy's voice whenever he was reading every little message.  _ ‘Stevie _ ,’ and ‘ _ Are you afraid of heights? _ ’ and ‘ _ Pretty boy. _ ’

And sometimes he couldn’t help himself, he had to picture Billy, how he might have been writing these cards. Standing at a kiosk in his leather jacket and heavy boots, contemplating which card to pick. Sitting in his Camaro in front of the small-town post office, the flashy car attracting looks while he carefully wrote down Steve's address over and over again, no need to look it up anymore.

Imagining all that made Steve smile. It felt good to know that wherever Billy was, he was thinking about Steve, too.

~~*~~

“He’s picking the really pretty ones, huh?”

Heather is holding the latest card in her hand. It's only been a week since the one from San Francisco, the time and location indicating that Billy hasn't gotten very far like maybe he wanted to spend some more time near the ocean before driving again.

The new postcard is a drawing of the  _ Cathedral Basilica of St. Joseph _ with a big  _ Welcome to San José, California _ printed on the bottom of it and finished with a few beautifully drawn flowers. It's a really aesthetically pleasing postcard, for sure.

“Are you talking about the card or the boy?” Robin's voice floats over from the couch, making Steve groan and Heather laugh.

“Both.”” Heather throws Steve a wink. “But who writes, “Did meet a trucker with your name today. Weird.” as a declaration of love?”

“It’s not a declaration of love, Jesus Christ," Steve says as his ears start to feel like they'll catch fire. He snatches his newest card from Heather's fingers and sticks it back on the fridge with one of the colorful capital ‘B’ magnets that Max and Lucas got him as a joke. He still suspects that those two troublemakers stole them from the school.

~~*~~

It’s Christmas Eve and a fresh layer of snow is covering everything, making the world feel safe and calm.

It’s Christmas Eve when new monsters show up in Steve's life. Monsters that had been lurking in his blind spot since Autumn 1984, monsters he could never see, didn’t care to look for.

It’s Christmas Eve when Max shows up at their doorstep with a black eye and a bleeding nose. Only in socks, her legs wet nearly up to the knees and without any jacket. Shaking from the cold and from deep, deep rage. Deeper than such a thin body should be able to feel. But the rage burns firebright in her, seems to claw its way out through her bright and wet eyes. 

Robin is the one who takes the first step, always the bravest, even while faced with that much rage. The moment she lays her hand on Max's shoulder, the girl basically collapses, going down screaming. 

They drag her in and Robin somehow gets her to change clothes and they bundle her up on the couch, both of them entwined around the angry girl, a safe cocoon against the cold night and all the monsters. It takes hours for Max to calm down enough to not shake out of her skin, to not snarl an

d bare her teeth and cry - to finally fall asleep.

It’s in the early hours of Christmas Day when Steve learns about the monster that lives in the Hargrove-Mayfield house; that kind of monster that does not hide under the bed but forces helpless kids that it should protect to hide there instead.

~~*~~

Max is still sleeping on the saggy green couch a few days later when Billy's next card arrives.

Steve shows it to Max, lets her find comfort in the carefully drawn ‘ _ Merry Christmas’ _ on the back of the beautiful picture of Long Beach.

If she notices the message that's written along the lowest corner, she doesn’t say anything about it.

- _ I imagine you would taste like Christmas Cider today.  _ -

~~*~~

Everyone spends New Years holed up at the apartment. The whole Byers Family and El are back in town and while Joyce is invented to celebrate with Mrs. Henderson, every monster fighter under the age of twenty is at Robin’s and Steve's. The little apartment barely holds them all but it is a great excuse to cuddle together, drinking punch and eating pizza.

None of them are really fond of the fireworks that are going on outside, they have the music up, try to drown out the world but still, the occasional explosion is hard to miss.

“Jesus,” Jonathan mutters to himself, having spilled some hot wine over his hands from flinching way too hard. “We should have camped somewhere way outside in the woods…”

“Are you nuts?” Dustin looks more than a little bit troubled by that suggestion. “The Woods would creep me out so bad, man. One twitching twig and I would be gone.”

A round of uncomfortable silence follows that graphic description, everyone caught up on their own version of the nightmare in Hopper's cabin where the Mind Flyer had nearly ripped the roof off going for El, going for all of them.

“Ugggh, you’re all so pathetic! Let’s talk about something fun!”

The pillow Max lobs at Lucas’ head missed its target, hitting Mike in the face instead. Cursing, the lanky teen fails to fight it off. Beside him, Will has to stifle a little giggle against his arm. Seeing the Mini-Byers smile lightens everyone's mood somehow.

“I really don’t get why you’re all so tense.”Heather is sitting on Robin's lap - official girlfriends at ease, at least with their little group. Of course, there’s no chance anyone could have explained to her what had happened, what their shared trauma was. But Heather Holloway was a god-send, who had just accepted that none of them would spend the night at the annual NewYear's bash by the Quarry, and opted to stay in with the whole Party.

“You don’t wanna know,” Robin huffs, looping her arms tighter around the petite girl, making her smile.

“Maybe not, but I’m happy I can help you feel better about it, Firecracker.”

Steve drags one leg up on the couch, sticking his toes under El's tights, making the curly haired girl giggle. Seeing his best friend so in love and happy really made his heart swell. Only six months back, Robin had been so miserable about her romantic preference, even more weighted down by it then by the real prospect that they could die at the hands of some Russians. Maybe in a few years, that thought would be funny. Right now, Steve directs his attention away from it.

“What were you saying about your professor, Nancy?” Steve picks up the conversation.

Distracted from her task of cleaning mulled wine out of her boyfriend's shirt, Nancy looked up, smiling at his interest. She and Jonathan had both scored a place at Wesleyan University and opted to live together, happily reunited after the Beyers had moved away. It was nice to have them home for the Holidays.

“Oh, yeah. Where did I stop-?”

“That one professor who is some misogynic asshole was saying -,” Max offers helpfully, tugging herself under Steve's arm and stealing a taste from his cider. He lets her, listening to Nancy's rambling, to the boys discussing the D&D campaign they want to play on the first day of the year, to Heather and Robin making plans to visit Chicago in the spring.

1986 arrived so quietly they nearly missed it, so content and warm were they in their own small world.

~~*~~

On the third of January a new card arrived from Las Vegas. Steve has to laugh about it, Billy being so pretentious. However, if he himself ever winds up in Nevada, he would have to have a peek at that colorful explosion of a city as well.

But turning the new postcard around and having an actual look at the written words made his face go hot in an instant. 

\-  _ Couldn’t stop thinking about your lips tonight. Wanted you to be my new-year- kiss, Shit, pretty boy, want you here with me. - _

Robin is snickering beside him, having snuck up to read over his shoulder as usual.“Seems your man was pretty drunk, ‘pretty boy’.”Her teasing tone made Steve roll his eyes, but he had to admit that Robin might not be wrong. The letters seem sloppier than usual, a bit wider and with more bravado. As for the actual massage…

“He’s not my man, Rob.”

The words lack some real bite and his roommate just huffs in amusement, making Steve's ears burn even hotter.

~~*~~

“I’m done! I’m so fucking done with this shit!”

“Language, Harrington!”

“Fuck you, Keith!”

Steve is seething, boiling, ready to explode out of his skin. The Family Video Store has a few customers this Friday evening, but Steve couldn’t care less about making a scene. He’s felt itchy since coming back to work after a few days off over New Years, and really, this has been a long time coming.

“Watch your mouth or I'll fire you, douchebag.”

Keith doesn’t even have the decency to be an ass about it or to act as he cares at all. The guy is just leaning against the counter, munching from a big bag of Doritos, acne riddled face staring at Steve throwing a fit like he’s the most boring thing in the world.

“You know what? I quit! See who’s dumb enough to work for you and your shitty closing shift system. I want to go home before eleven for once!”

Shrugging, Keith gorges himself on another hand full of cornchips.

“You can go home right now, Harrington. Make sure to leave the vest.”

Both of them too stubborn, they stare each other down - a really stupid game of “who will blink first”. If he would just go back to swiping the shelf, sorting videos as he went, this encounter could blow over and Steve knows that. But he also knows that his supervisor hates his guts and would continue to use every opportunity to embarrass him, work him into the ground for minimum wage, not even Robin's intervention had been able to help Steve, this time. And he's not just being bitchy or bratty about this, he also has a life that he wants to enjoy instead of having to close up the store twenty nights out of twenty-six every month.

“Fuck it!”

With a last look thrown more sharply than any dagger, Steve practically rips his work vest off, slapping it on the counter. Then he turns around and marches out of the store without a single glance back.

~~*~~

Later, when he’s holed up in his bed, Robin knocks at his door. She'd had to close up instead, after Steve quit in such a dramatic fashion, but being the amazing friend Robin is, she’s not mad about it. Instead, she sneaks under his warm blanket and huddles in close.

“Have something to brighten up your mood, Dingus," she says.

It’s a postcard. Steve can barely make out the big letters on the front in the sparse light falling through his open door from the hallway but after some squinting, he’s sure it reads  _ Santa Fe - New Mexico. _

Taking a few big breaths, Steve just presses the card to his chest, no use trying to read it. He’s shaking with how lost and useless he feels. Not even able to hold a simple job...

“How about you get up to read it? The light is better in the living room. And I bought pizza.”

“Robin…”

But Robin hushes him, boops him on the nose like he’s some little sad kitten. Maybe he is.

“We'll figure it out, Steve.”

How did he ever deserve her?

~~*~~   


\-  _ Why are cars so fucking useless? Didn’t go on a trip to be stuck! The SHIT! _ -

The message from Houston that arrives two weeks into Steve's unemployment is so heartfelt and so, so typically Billy, Steve has to laugh, despite also feeling sorry for the other man.

Max - who is sitting on the floor between the couch and their coffee table more often than not these days - looks up from her homework, both eyebrows raised high. Since Christmas, the red-haired girl spends at least three days a week at the apartment, and neither Steve nor Robin would ever consider asking her to leave or kick her out. Steve sometimes picks her up from school. His number is the first one she calls when she gets in trouble.

“What’s so funny? Shithead got in trouble?”

Amusement is written all over his face when Steve comes to sit beside her, showing her the note.

“Oh, wow. He’ll be so pissed,” Max says.

“Don’t be mean, Maxie.”Despite his words, Steve can’t control his grin, making Max laugh as well. After having calmed down, they both marvel at the front picture, an interior shot of the Rice Hotel that looks really fancy.

“Guess he’s not staying there,” Max huffs.”You think Billy is in trouble?”

Being a little sister means being allowed to poke some fun at him, but Steve knows how deeply Max cares for Billy, how distance had healed a lot of old wounds between them. The redhead had only told him last week, spilled it like a big secret, that Billy had called. Had apparently called a few times, should the complaints from Max’s mother about some prank-calls be any indicator whatsoever. Steve had tried not to pry, had only taken the information Max was willingly giving and that wasn't much. But he has his postcards, so he has no right to demand even more attention.

“Hmm. Don’t think so. He always can take a bus back to Hawkins," Steve says.

“As if.”Max crossed her arms, offended by the mere idea that her brother could be driving around in anything else than his trademark blue Camaro. Secretly, Steve agreed.

“As if,” he echoes. “There are plenty of opportunities to find some work in Houston. He’ll save up money to fix that monster, I’m sure.”

Reassured by his logical answer, Max gets back to her Lit homework, sticking the pencil between her lips in concentration. Looking down at the card again, Steve wishes he had a way to ask Billy if he needed any help.

~~*~~   


Nervous as hell, Steve tugs at the hem of his baby blue shirt for the hundredth time. Why are job interviews so hard? It’s not even that big of a deal but his nerves are running wild. Just two days ago he had seen the printed out sign stuck up in the front window of his and Robin's favorite café, the Hawkin's Rose. It's a little café near the library with a lot of books inside and mismatched plush furniture to get cozy in. The old couple that runs the place bakes all their cakes themselves and also sell homemade strawberry-pumpkin jam and top it all off with lovely advice about how to enjoy life.

Steve had called them yesterday and Mr. Throst had been delighted to invite him for tea and an interview today. So here Steve is, sitting in a dark gray armchair that is way too comfortable and makes it hard to sit upright and professional, Buster and Rose Throst in front of him, tucked together on a loveseat.

As far as Steve can tell, the interview is going well, way better than that disaster a few months back at Family Video. He doesn’t have any experience with waiting tables and serving food but they assure him that it’s an easy thing to learn. Still, he’s nervous.

It’s somehow calming to touch the postcard that’s tucked into his breast pocket, the one he just found on the doorstep this morning on his way out. It's of a light house in Cameron in some old-school black and white and the pun on the back gives some kind of indication that Billy is now hitchhiking around Houston and the near cities without his car. 

- _ The Hitchhiker's Guide to Louisiana - _

“What’s that? You have friends in Louisiana?” Mrs. Throsts smiles in interest.

“Ah… someone that’s really important to me is on a road-trip. He sends me cards now and then.”

Steve notices his slip-up too late. He bites down on his tongue, can feel the color drain from his face. Hawkins isn’t the most open place, so a statement like that could be easily misunderstood.

But Mrs Throst just smiles.

“Sounds like a lovely young man, my dear.”

~~*~~

If someone had told Steve he would wind up sitting beside Will Byers - back in Hawkins to celebrate his Birthday - on the couch in his own apartment, both of them holding a cup of hot chocolate, talking about  _ boys  _ of all things… well, Steve wouldn’t have laughed, because to be fair, he would always listen to his kids. And really, it felt like a testament in trust that Will felt safe enough to talk to him about such a difficult topic.

And Billy's last postcard - from Welsh, Louisiana this time - might have something to do with it, too. 

By accident, the boy had stumbled upon it lying on the kitchen table when the Party had been over for a six-hour Dungeons and Dragons session, the back facing up.

_ Oh once in your life you find someone _

_ Who will turn your world around _

_ Bring you up when you're feelin' down _

-

Not that the lines were that much of a giveaway, but apparently the boy had some thoughts about them, maybe had heard someone talking shit about Bryan Adams being a pansy or what shit else. So after everyone went on their merry ways, he shyly asked if Steve had a moment, if they maybe could talk.

Will was looking at his hands now, as much out of his dept as Steve was. This was so awkward.

“Listen… Will. I’m not really - I don’t have any idea. You should talk to Robin about something like that," Steve says.

  
“But Robin likes girls.”

Steve huffs a small laugh, pressing his shoulder against Wills for a moment, making the lanky teen look up through his bangs. The day Will Beyers would decide to wear his hair away from his face, a lot of people would lose their shit over that boy, for sure.

“This is pretty new for me, too. I never considered not liking girls, you know,” Steve makes the decision to be open with Will about this. He had talked to Robin, of course, about all the confusion Billy's latest postcards had stirred up, but Will looked really lost, so getting over a bit of awkwardness to make the boy feel better was a good thing.

“But I still like girls, too, you know.”

“You do? That’s allowed?”

Shrugging, Steve took a sip of hot chocolate .

“Who cares, right? Everyone who gives you shit about this is just an annoying asshole that you are allowed to ignore. No one can tell you shit about who to like. It’s your own thing.”

Will still looked skeptical about it, but he was smiling.

“If anyone ever gives you shit, I'll kick their ass. Or no, wait - I'll drive over if you need me to, okay? - but Jonathan will kick their ass. Or your mom. She’s a bad-ass ass-kicker, dude.”

Now the little Beyers was smiling full force, blushing a bit, but seeming immensely relieved. Steve wondered how he had managed that. He really had no idea what he was talking about. After struggling with all his father's expectations and his own package of stupid ideas of how his propper Middle-American future should look like - getting a rabbiting heartbeat because of a postcard from a boy that had beaten him up a year ago and then skipped town the first chance he got to break free - yeah, that was pretty new.

~~*~~

At the beginning of April, Steve and Robin finally accept that Max has somewhat moved in with them so they make it official. She slept on the lumpy couch more nights then she slept at home anyway. And Steve being Steve he offers her his room to live in. He moves his things to the living room and they all get used to the new situation. 

Sleeping in a new space makes the nightmares spike - something that had gotten better in the last few months, and Steve stays up some nights, watching a movie from Robin's steadily growing collection that's piling up beside the TV stand.

It’s not unusual for both girls to stagger out of their little rooms at four in the morning just to cuddle up to Steve and fall asleep again. It’s not unusual for the three of them to wake up the next morning in a comfy cuddle pile. The couch should be too small for that but somehow they make it work. 

Max hangs the fairy light from over her bed over the TV instead and it somehow makes them all feel better and safer. If they ever should start to flicker, the nail bat is tucked under the couch within grabbing distance and Robin got herself an old golf club from the junk yard that was definitely not leaning against the wall beside her door out of aesthetic reasons. 

A new addition to the routine is also a phone call once a week from someplace out of the states. Max had told Billy where to call to get to her without any details. But the boy wasn’t stupid, he'd had to live with his abusive dad for 18 years, so he probably made the right connection, checking up on his sister dutifully while hitchhiking and picking up work where he can to pay the workshop in Houston where the Camaro is parked for now.

Steve watches her sitting in the living room, on the floor, back to the wall under the phone, quietly talking, quietly smiling. She looks peaceful. Content.

If the latest postcard from Lafayette is anything to go by, Billy is content, too.

~~*~~

The next two cards are only a few days apart and make Steve laugh so much, he nearly spills his beer over both of them.

The first one arrives on Thursday and it's another one from Houston, indicating that Billy has gone back there to get his car finally. After hitchhiking around the area and saving up for the repairs for nearly three months, that is definitely good news.

\-  _ This fucking city will have seen the last of me! Watch my break lights! - _

The card is only red and has  _ Greetings from HOUSTON, TX _ written on it in different fonts, while Houston had a highway road sign around it, Billy got to it with a sharpie and has scribbled ‘I wish you were here’ in the left corner, which makes Steve blush and smile when Dustin points out that it wasn't part of the original design.

On Friday, the next card arrives from Montgomery in Alabama. It features the state capitol in all its all-white glory, American flag proudly raised. Steve actually checked on Robin's conspiracy map of Billy's Trip through the States and these two cities were over 600 miles apart.

_ \- Ran out of gas - _

~~*~~

When the phone is ringing on Wednesday around six, Steve knows better than to pick up. And he usually wouldn’t, would just wait for Max to dash out of her room and pick up the receiver. But the redhead is still at the arcade, doing MadMax business and kicking all the boys' asses and apparently Mr. Sinclair is running a bit late to pick her up. So even while he knows better and instead of just letting the call stop by itself, Steve picks up. There might be some selfishness to it, too, but he doesn’t look into that too much.

“Hey.”

A hitch of breath and a rustle on the other side, then silence.

“Max is running a bit late from the arcade.”

Steve feels the need to explain why he would break this unspoken rule of ‘Phone Calls for Max - Postcards for Steve’. Billy doesn't answer and for a moment he’s convinced the other man has just disconnected the call.

He stands in silence and listens. There is quiet breathing and some twittering of some birds that filter faintly through the static, a car driving by. So, still connected.

“You want me to hang up? Maybe you can give me the number, so Max can call you back. It shouldn’t be long 'till she’s home, really. She still has homework to do… and she always does it, I’m not like a bad guardian, no matter what she tells you-”

“Steve. Shut up.”Billy’s voice sounds distorted through the line, but the amusement that rolls in his rough, soft voice is unmistakable. Steve's mouth snaps shut, his teeth clicking together, his cheeks warming. Hearing Billy’s voice for the first time in over ten months - after all the distance and all the written words that Steve hasn’t been able to answer - sends a jolt down his spin that gets his arm hair to stand on end and his heart to pound loud and fast, so fast Steve is convinced Billy might be able to hear it through the phone, a rapid drumming against the cage of his ribs.

Both of them stay silent after that, just breathing together. It feels like an eternity but it's probably only close to a few minutes, then Max bursts through the door, breaking the spell.

“I’m here! I’m here!”

She skids through the room in her socks, backpack and jacket flying in all directions.

Billy laughs into his ear, “Bye, pretty boy,” then the receiver is ripped from his hands. Max shushes him away with a few impatient gestures of her hand, making Steve feel like an annoying little fly. But he doesn’t really care.

Wandering over to the couch feels like some kind of dream, like an out of body experience. He just drops down on it face first with a loud ‘Oof.’ In the background he can hear a pause in Max’s excited talking, then:

“Did you just break Steve?”

~~*~~

The postcard that arrives one week later is from West Palm Beach.

_ \- It did feel good to hear your voice - _

Steve carries the beautiful picture of the ocean and miles and miles of waves around in the front pocket of his shirt for nearly ten days before he gets too afraid of damaging it and pins it to the fridge alongside the twenty-one others. He is slowly running out of space.

~~*~~

“I don’t know, Robs… it’s kind of a big deal.”

Steve is staring down at the sign-up forms, but he can feel Robin rolling her eyes at him from across the table.

“Don’t chicken out because of all the paperwork, Dingus. You wanna learn about working with kids, or not? Don’t waste my time here by being a wuss.”

igning up for evening classes is really is a ton more paperwork than Steve had expected, that's for sure. The part where he has to list his references and grades scares him even more than where he had to put his financial data. Because if he's honest, he has a bank account, but he doesn't have much of the other stuff and the lines have stayed mostly blank.

“I want to do it. You know that better than anyone.”

“So?” Robin is looking at him. Even her phenomenal patience for his bullshit is running thin, he can tell.

“What if they won’t take me?”

With a loud huff, Robin hides her face behind her hands.

“For the I-don’t-even-know-est time. They will take you. You pay them money for that shit. Then they teach you. If you are too stupid to pick it up, that’s not on them, they still get paid. Get it, capitalism to your advantage, Steve.”

That's one way to see it. Sighing, Steve looks back at the table, covered in all kinds of forms. This is worse than tax returns and makes his palms sweaty. But he is actually pretty sure about this. He wants to learn about social work with children. It'ss the “really wanting to do it” that makes him so nervous. Steve isn’t really used to having a Plan, of having to face the possibility of failing that plan. It's scary.

“Come on. Sign that shit. I wanna go get burgers. I’m starving~”

Kicking Robin under the table and getting a dirty look for it, Steve shifts through all the paperwork again, making sure everything is neat and complete. He had talked to an advisor beforehand - more than once - and had calculated all the numbers together with Robin and Dustin. The only thing stopping him from finally doing something with his life is his signature and his scared and self-doubting brain.

Steve signs on the dotted line.

~~*~~

The Basement at the Wheelers House has been collecting dust over the last half year, after the Party had adopted the Scoops-Cave - which is what h Lucas had named it after declaring that  _ ‘Robin and Steve's Apartment _ ’ was just too long a name and lame on top - but today it's being redecorated .

Mike had finally gotten his mother's permission to make the basement his actual room because it was way cooler and bigger than the old one and that Mrs. Wheeler would get the hobby-room she so desperately wanted had been a huge selling point, too.

So the Party has gathered to help clean out the basement, sort all the stuff for a yard-sale and keep what they want for themselves. Max finds some old vinyl records she gets instantly protective over and that are now safely stored away in the trunk of Steve's Beemer. 

Then they move all furniture up and down the stairs as needed, only stopping for a pizza lunch. After this, Robin and Heather design some drawings for the walls to Mike's liking and paint them with the help of Erica.

Around the time they're finally all done, Steve notices that the postcard from this morning, the one that he'd slipped into the back pocket of his jeans on the way out of the apartment complex, is missing. So he tears the room apart again, everyone joining in after noticing what's going on. They all know too well what the cards mean to Steve and no one would dare to make fun of that.

Cursing silently, Steve's checking under the rug for about the third time, when Erica's voice pipes up.

“Hey Butthead. You looking for this?”

She's holding up the postcard that has four pictures of different skyscrapers on it, the Words  _ ‘Charlotte - the Queen City _ ’ arranged around them.

“Fuck, yes!”

Steve gets to his feet so fast his head is spinning for a moment, making him pause and giving Erica time to flip the card and read the little poem at the back. She scrunches up her nose.

“The hell, dude? That’s supposed to be romantic? Guys are so weird.”

He takes the card from her, sticking out his tongue.

“Yes, really grown up, Steven,” Erica muses in that dry way of hers.

“You will get it soon enough, gremlin. Now stop procrastinating on the paintjob. We wanna get done today.”

With a shake of her head, Erica rejoins the other girls at the window, where they're currently painting the map of Mike's most beloved D&D Campaign. After watching the four of them for a moment, Steve reads Billy’s latest message.

-

_ you loved me _

_ then I woke up _

_ from my dream _

-

A soft smile pulls at Steve’s lips, he doesn't try to fight it. Reading these lines feels like a little inside joke they share, a throwback to October more than a year ago. “m I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?”, spoken in a really different context. Still, Steve can’t help but wonder. How long has this been going on for Billy? Might this be more than just some rephrasing, maybe is this Billy’s way to tell him how deep his feelings had been running even back then?

“Steve, stop creepin’ around and come help!”

On Dustin’s command, Steve places the card in his jacket pocket this time, a much safer place, and goes to help him and Lucas to put the couch back in place.

~~*~~

Hell breaks loose in May.

On the twentieth, Neil Hargrove is kicking down the door to their apartment, having decided - for whatever crazy reason - to be fed up with his step-daughter's disappearance and demanding her return to the Hargrove-Mayfield household. But Steve is having none of it and Robin really shows her teeth and claws in a mean scream-off that ends with some thrown fists and the spitting mad girl in the path of the beating while Max hides her pale face against Steve's arm

That’s why Steve ends up sitting at the Chief's office on a Thursday night, after a long shift at the “Rose”, Robin at his side, who is melting through an ice pack with her anger. Max is pressed between both of them, small and pale but so alive. When they press charges against her Step-dad, she spills every little detail to Phil Callahan, the new Chief in charge. After everything has been put down and the Ink of Max's signature dries on the paper, Flo brings her a cup of chamomile-tea and tells the redhead how brave she had been. That’s when Max finally breaks down.

Word gets out fast - finally - because that’s what a city like Hawkins is good for. A city where everyone knows everything about their neighbors and their cat. Only six days later Neil Hargrove drives over the border out of Hawkins, Indiana for the very last time.

Susan Mayfield stays. Recovering from the mental trauma will take a while, but ‘The Housewives’ are already stepping up, wanting to help her find a new path in her upside-down turned life. She will figure it out. Getting things back to normal with her daughter, however, will take much longer.

On the last day of May, a postcard from New York arrives, with the skyline on the front and only two simple words on the back.

_ \- Thank you - _

~~*~~

Steve has his hands full with working his shifts as a waiter in the daytime, then attending evening classes two days a week. He still drives the kids around as much as possible - has Robin in on it too, now that she finally has her drivers license - and goes to have dinner at the Hendersons' every other week.

It’s really packed. And he couldn’t be happier.

“Nope. I’m not doing that. Shit!”

Robin storms out of her room, pinstriped jacket hanging half off her shoulder. Steve looks up from the magazine he’s reading at the kitchen table. He's in a simple black suit and a red shirt, his own jacket neatly folded over the back of his chair.

“I can’t do this. What if people talk shit??”

His best friend looks stunning in her gray suit that is fashionably over-long with high-waisted pants, a black leather belt and some golden chains winding around her waist. A deep-cut lace blouse really brings it all together, making Robin look like a noblewoman and a Bond-villainess at the same time. Steve really has to clap himself on the back because he saved up for that outfit and gifted it to her as an early graduation present.

“Don’t you, like, not care what people think? And I’m here as the fall-back, remember?”

Being a fake prom-date to his old high-school isn't too far up on Steve's list of favorite things to do, but in no way is he going to miss out on Robin and Heather slamming it as the new secret in-couple of Hawkins.

Robin fiddles with the wide lacey lapels of her shirt.

“What if it gets Heather in trouble? Her parents don’t know. She could be disowned or shit, I don’t know.”

With a deep sigh, Steve gets up, grabbing Robin's hands and guiding them down between them. She'll worry a thread lose otherwise.

“Robin. Come on, Robs. I heard Heather tell you countless times that she’s planning to marry you one day. If her parents find out, they find out. She wouldn’t have agreed to be your Prom-Date if she wasn't ready. Right?”

Robin doesn’t look that convinced.

“It'll be fine. And I'll be here too and I'll run interference if needed. You know I wouldn't let anyone talk shit about you.”

“You can’t throw a punch to save your life, Harrington.”

“Watch me, Buckley.”

In a cartoony gesture, Steve gets his fists up, having to pause because the fabric of his shirt wasn’t that giving. It made his bestie laugh, through. So that was a win. He patted Robin's arm.

“Come on. Let’s go get your girl.”

~~*~~

_~~Dear~~ Steve _

_ Did you ever consider that my words could be genuine? _

_ Whenever I think about Hawkins, I think about you. _

_ Your smile. Your eyes. Your voice. _

_ I’m sorry I punched you in autumn. _

_ But if it was the only time I was allowed to lay hands on you, I won't regret it. _

_ There isn’t much I miss about Indiana, but I miss you. _

_ Billy _

_ June 19th, 1986 _

_ Baxter State Park - Maine _

~~*~~

By late August, Steve is slowly coming to terms with the reality that there might be no more postcards from Billy. The last one, where the blond man had spilled out his heart, had arrived over two months ago. He checked the Mailbox every day - had even asked at the post office if some cards had arrived for him - but no such luck. Max hadn’t been able to tell him anything, either, and Steve hadn’t wanted to be selfish and ask her to use her minutes on the phone with her brother to ask about it.

So he got his hopes crushed every evening after work, always wondering what he had done wrong, if maybe Billy had just gotten it all out of his system with spilling his guts and realized how stupid it had been, afterwards.

Shaking his head about himself and his dramatic overthinking brain, Steve closes the mailbox for today, slowly trotting up the steps to their second floor apartment. Shifts at the Café always tended to be particular hellish at every second Saturday of the month, because the old Ladies of Hawkins had their monthly book-club meeting. And they were lovely, but seemed to see him as their grandson - all twelve of them - and it meant a lot of listening and smiling and remembering favorite coffee orders. It also meant spectacular tips, so Steve really couldn’t complain too much.

As he turns the key in the door he can hear voices from inside the apartment. Max is bickering with Robin, and it makes his heart flood with warmth and fond emotions. Two years ago he would have never pictured his life like this. Fighting monsters, having a real, supportive family that stayed together by choice, not by blood, supporting himself.

“Steve?”

Max’s voice floats from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I’m home. Give me a second.”

The strap of his messenger bag is stuck around the hood of the loose gray Hawkins High Sweatshirt he’s wearing and he wrestles with the fabric while stepping into the kitchen. Then he stops dead in his tracks, arms half raised, his hair still wild from the summer rain outside.

Max is standing by the sink, ankles crossed, her hair braided into a thick plait. She is starting to fill out Robin’s shirts, always stealing clothes from both of them.

Robin sits at the table, one leg up on the chair, always the theater kid. She’s not wearing any pants, but that’s nothing Steve's not used to.

Between the both of them, nursing a cup of coffee, sits Billy. He's barely looking up at Steve through his long lashes, his hair messily tied back into a short knot that barely contains all the wild curls - and had his hair always been that blond? He looks relaxed and calm, confident in his tanned skin. And he looks so foreign in their little kitchen with the red checked floor and a fridge full of postcards and silly magnets.

Billy’s smile is barely there when he finally, really looks up, faint and private and beautiful. He plucks a postcard from the breast pocket of his white shirt that has half the buttons undone and the other half missing. The card shows a beautiful sunset over an endless ocean, framed by palm trees.

Steve still remembers hearing the news from Tommy about Billy driving off, remembers finding the first card from Green Bay on his parents' doorstep, can see it on the fridge from where he‘s standing. And a year after everything had started, there is a card with the Californian beach on it that Billy holds out to him from his seat at the kitchen table, because he’s back in Hawkins and Max let him in while Steve had been at work. And the card says:

- _I’m home. I love you._ -

And what else is there for Steve to do than just lean over and kiss him.

\- Fin -

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading!  
> Merry Christmas for everyone who celebrates that!  
> And a wholesome wintertime for all of you!! <3
> 
> Song Quote: Bryan Adams - Heaven  
> [Robins prom outfit](https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4349/36653243076_6bb62dd93c_o.jpg)
> 
> I made some Art for this! a href="https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/618391858383601664/from-cali-with-love-this-is-the-cover-art-for-a" rel="nofollow">[Here]


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